My Picture: Anyang, Henan Province, China.
Life while – you – wait
Culture
This Easter Day
A picture sent to me by a friend in England…..his son on Easter morning.
Rain clouds conducting rhythm.
April fools, all around.
The daffodils wilting in sight of spring,
an early morning warmed.
And down this dusty road
words will make you a lemonade sun,
on this Easter day.
Georg Simmel
My picture: A wonderful gift from a friend….The design of the pen is based on the ideas of the German philosopher Georg Simmel.
“What is nature
…..what is society?”
I asked my friend as I looked at the pen,
a gift across the divide.
He was unsure what I was talking about…..
a pen based on social boundaries and sense.
A name….. Georg Simmel
from those never knowing, so I explained.
“In this dark hour…there are levels of concern
harbours of eternal silences….”
But he was slowly drifting away,
another ladder day.
The west wind in spring and stigmatized innocence,
blew across the room and opened a familiar door
…..a semi -permanent thing.
Sanquan moment
My picture: Taken this morning.
Dawn just breaking, a simile in my mirror.
A tiny spiders web
glistening on silken threads.
Catches thoughts unfurling, don’t worry. ….
wrong prey to pounce on today.
Me, you and sorrow
My picture: A simple drawing
I often dream,
sometimes I can almost
taste the sea and the islands.
Your face is less clear now,
but I can hear the old songs
we danced to.
And see the sadness, grinning
in front of our faces.
Flowing in some bedroom, some street corner,
and some Spanish beach.
Always grinning…..
Then the morning arrives,
but I still think that someday…..
I will run my fingers through your
wet hair, as my lips purge your soft tender skin.
One more time…..
The death of Fish
My Picture: Taken today in Anyang City, Henan, China.
Dead fish in the river and cloud-moisture.
Frantically whipping-up
the crisis below, unseen.
A tarnished bitter shame,
and freeze frame once more.
And the empty plastic bottles,
that cry like tears.
Surrounding the place
with their uselessness.
And nobody minded at all.
So, I went home and took a shower
with love and everything.
The heat turned up listening to AC/DC,
splattering the water and guitar riffs all over the place.
I think this will be good for the fish.
Black Hole
https://www.wired.com/story/scientists-reveal-the-first-picture-of-a-black-hole/
I woke this morning to darkness visible,
a swift hand clock curled up in grains of sands.
Neutron and neutron to neutrons enmeshed……..
I wonder what is beyond….
A voice from the depths of nothingness,
who cried in pain for a long time searching.
A life…before it bursts……
It’s her….it’s her, waiting from a distant place.
No birds this morning
My Picture
As it starts to clear,
and aged mirror for us all.
Empty car park spaces,
in the morning shadow.
Speed limits rarely broken.
A closed soft sun,
hidden by fog familiar words
and silence from friends.
A slight chill and common sound
…. and the colours too.
You understand?
My Picture
I once followed the seasons,
pleasant souls to celebrate.
In motion, wings of memories
back and forth.
Now, there are no seasons…..
only one…..
To survive the guts and spillage of glances smiling,
once fashioned there.
In helpless, grim fascination
I watch every sunrise and sunset.
A slight depression in the ground,
and a blushing sun turned to rust.
Now the eerie, cold and delicate sounds
pound my body through this growing landscape.
And dance alone in the high, morning sun.
The nearest thing to being alive….. today.
Dreams left behind
My Picture: Tablecloth in a coffee bar I frequent.
I sat down for coffee,
in the shadow of a Xinxiang sky.
Without effort, I watched
people talk with their phones
hoping to make the moment work.
A young woman is making herself
look pretty, for a selfie……
trying to take off her unbecoming frown.
She seems to be struggling, I want to help
but she may misunderstand my motives.
She….is already pretty
beautiful black hair, shiny, as straight as can be
with a pick bow half- lost in an aimless flight.
Her lips as red as a rose, with all the allure
of a fleeting symbol of life.
Then, I left for home
bowing to the faint rays of light and sunset crosses.
Strange place, I thought
but no sadness on this day, at least.
A Wandering Poet 